Quirk of Fate, Part 2: Night of the Goblin
by The Master Planner
Summary: When we last saw her, Mary Jane Watson, alias SpiderWoman, had hung up her webs after the death of her beloved. But when a new supervillain threatens New York and all she holds dear, she finds she cannot escape her duty and her destiny.
1. Prolouge: Trouble

Quirk of Fate, Part 2: Night of the Goblin

When we last saw her, Mary Jane Watson, alias Spider-Woman, had hung up her webs after the death of her beloved. But when a new supervillain threatens New York and all she holds dear, she finds she cannot escape her duty and her destiny.

The Standard Disclaimer: All characters involved belong to Marvel, unless I note otherwise. Any quotes I may use belong strictly to their authors!

Dramatis Personae: Mary Jane Watson, Harry Osborn, Norman Osborn, the Ghost (of Peter Parker), Howard "Flash" Thompson, Elizabeth Allen

Previously: During a high school field trip to a scientific laboratory, a genetically altered spider escaped its cage and bit the beautiful, popular Mary Jane Watson. Finding herself endowed with all its powers—inhuman strength, speed, endurance; mild precognition; and the ability to spin organic webbing—she turns to her brilliant friend, Peter Parker, for help. Peter persuades Mary Jane to use her extraordinary abilities to help others as a superhero. Meanwhile, a laboratory accident finds an eminent nuclear physicist, Dr. Otto Octavius, brain-damaged with his robotic equipment welded to his body. Doctor Octopus easily defeats Spider-Woman in their first meeting, but with Peter's help, Spidey battles him to a standstill at First Central Bank. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, Peter is taken hostage and killed by Doc Ock. Holding herself responsible for his death, Mary Jane discards her costume and her career…And now begin!

Prologue: Trouble 

"_Oh no, I see_

_A spider web is tangled up with me._

_And I lost my head,_

_And thought of all the stupid things I'd said._

_Oh no, what's this?_

_A spider web and I'm caught in the middle._

_So I turn to run,_

_And thought of all the stupid things I'd done."_

Coldplay, "Trouble"

_night_

_She_ tossed, turned restlessly in her bed. The dream came to her more often than she wanted to admit. Whether she was awake or asleep was a futile distinction. He came to her every night and every day now, whether she was fast asleep, as she was now, or wide awake, in class. _She'd_ see _him _again and again, _he'd_ haunted her mind since his murder, and _she_ was helpless to stop it, because _she_ wanted to be, and because _she_ deserved to be. Her thoughts now swirled through her unconscious mind, under the influence of rapid eye movement.

One moment, she saw _him_, saw _his_ crushed, broken body lying on the tile floor, his life seeping away from internal bleeding, and the next he was standing in front of her, perfectly healthy and peaceful, framed with golden light and dark hair ruffling in a gentle, celestial breeze, holding the camera that he had still clutched at the moment of his death.

"_Hello, Mary Jane,"_ he'd say.

"_Hello, Peter,"_ she'd reply.

"_What you're doing now, MJ—it makes me sad."_

"_Sad? How can you be sad in heaven? You're—I don't know, playing harps and doing science experiments with angels while I'm still tormented by your memory, hanging onto regular human contact by a thread. Can you understand? I can't live the way you want me to."_

"_You know I understand, MJ," _he'd say serenely. _"But I thought I told you the meaning of responsibility. The needs of the many outweigh the desires of the few."_

Oh, yes. Oh yes, he did. _"It's a responsibility I can't handle. I will not let anyone else's life end the way yours did."_

Her dreaming self looked at her beloved, and suddenly hated him. She hated the capricious fate that had placed him directly on a collision course with that damned Octopus—

"_You shouldn't blame Dr. Octavius so much," _Peter would smile. _"You know, I never felt a thing. I departed quite painlessly into a better life. Death isn't so much an end of life as it is a beginning."_

Easy for _you_ to say, she'd think.

"_You'll see when your time comes."_

She really did hate him then. Hated the slings and arrows of fate, too. Damn! Octopus could have robbed another bank, somewhere else in the city. He could have taken another hostage, too, anyone except the boy she loved! Why? Why did she have to suffer endless torment for her actions and inactions? Why was _he_ enjoying eternal delights in Heaven while she was condemned to a living Purgatory?

"_Your Purgatory is all in your mind," _he'd remind her. _"Tormenting yourself isn't going to bring me back to Earth."_

"_I can't live with your superhero dreams, Peter! I want—I deserve—a life of my own!" _

"_But you've been given a gift, Mary Jane. With great power must also come great responsibility." _His voice was still gentle in tone, but now implacable and the weight of the world rested on it. He reached out to his Mary Jane, and his face filled with love, concern, and doubt. _"Take my hand, love."_ With the other hand, he reached into his pocket and almost magically pulled out that red and blue, nearly-forgotten costume. He held it out to her.

Mary Jane paused to look at the hand. It wasn't the hand that had held hers, the hand that stroked her hair and cheek as he kissed her, wasn't the hand that had so carefully engineered the chemicals that couldn't prevent his death, wasn't the hand that had so carefully sewn together the fabric of her costume. It wasn't the hand that gently massaged her shoulders after a hard night of crime fighting.

It was the hand of fate, the heavy hand that had a stranglehold on her, clutching her throat, choking her, draining her life, pulling up and pummeling her with memories she desperately tried to bury. And in the other hand was that damned costume, the one she wouldn't use again if he _paid_ her a million dollars a second.

She angrily batted the offered hand away, jerked the offending costume out of his hand. _"No, Peter! I am Mary Jane Watson! I am Spider-Woman no more!"_

And she fell into nothingness, her _"No more! No more!"_ echoing around her, until she reached the bottom…

…where she suddenly found herself in the cold metal embrace of Octavius, whispering, _"Now that I've killed your little boyfriend off, I have no competition for your heart. You will eventually come around, you will love me whether you wish to or not, and we shall rule the world together… "_

"_Stop it! Stop it! Get off me, you monster!"_ she'd shout, pushing uselessly at the unfeeling arms…

"_Mary Jane!"_ he'd call, over and over, lunging at her, grabbing at her, shaking her…

"Mary Jane!" Harry Osborn shouted up at her from the floor. Mary Jane suddenly realized it was him who had been shaking her.

"You're not…" she started.

"Not what? You were pushing me off the bed and screaming that I'm a monster!" He rubbed his side. "Damn. That _hurts_." Harry's face suddenly turned pensive. "It's Pete, isn't it?"

MJ nodded.

"You know how he died?" Harry whispered. "The autopsy said he died of internal bleeding and all his bones were broken. The news reports say he was at the bank and a supervillain grabbed him and _crushed him _to_ death_. Shitty way to go, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is."

"They had to have a closed-casket funeral for him. He was so fucked up that you couldn't even look at him. Can you imagine _that_?"

"No. I couldn't. Stop being morbid, Harry. He was your best pal."

"Then they said his Uncle Ben shot himself and his Aunt May got a nervous breakdown and got sent to the mental hospital, and she blames Spider-Woman for the deaths of her husband and nephew. They were the only family she had, you know. The _Daily Bugle_ wants the NYPD to arrest her for murder. They're offering a 1 million dollar reward for her head. No wonder the bug won't show her face around here."

"Don't talk about that. Please."

"You know, I'd kill her. Seriously. I don't care, call me a chauvinist pig and a woman-hater if you want. I mean, that bitch—she killed my best pal and practically his whole family—"

"No she didn't. You don't really mean that."

"Sure I do. She's the reason he got killed, or at least contributed to his death. He was hanging around her and taking pictures for the paper right near the battle."

"I _know_, Harry. I read newspapers, too. Stop talking about this shit. It's 3 in the morning. I'm going back to sleep."


	2. Easier to Run

Chapter 2: Easier To Run

"_Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past_

_Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have_

_Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back_

_And never moving forward so there'd never be a past..._

_If I could change, I would_

_Take back the pain, I would_

_Retrace every wrong move that I made, I would,_

_If I could stand up and take the blame, I would,_

_If I could take all the shame to the grave I would..."_

Linkin Park, "Easier To Run"

_night, watson residence_

She couldn't succeed. Even if she did go back to sleep, Peter would appear once more, prodding her until he finally prodded her to insanity.

"Hold me, Harry," she told him. "Just hold me."

Harry obliged. He knew Pete had had a crush on her for a long time, and they were close friends. As far as he knew from Mary Jane, their relationship had just started to get closer, and she had accompanied him to the bank as he cashed the check that would pay for their first formal date. She'd told Harry a riveting tale that placed her in the lobby as a villainous scientist, taking the _nom de guerre _of Doctor Octopus, smashed his way to the safe. In the story, she'd taken off her high heels and fled as fast as her legs could take her. In the story she was an eyewitness to the murder. She'd looked over her shoulder to see Peter try to tackle the villain, dying to save the obviously pregnant bank teller. Harry could only imagine how hard it must be for her.

He didn't know Mary Jane's story was just that, a story.

_night, osborn penthouse_

In his penthouse in Manhattan, a tall, auburn-haired man paced the floor, afflicted by insomnia as well. At first he paced back and forth, but then, the better to utilize the space, he started going around and around.

As he was completely unable to fall asleep, when the sun rose, he changed and headed off to work.

The auburn-haired man was Norman Osborn, and he was Harry's father.

_morning, midtown high school_

The school counselor stared steadily at Mary Jane from across his desk. "We are all concerned about you, Mary Jane. Your grades haven't suffered—_yet_—but still, you look horrible. I can see the circles under your eyes, you aren't sleeping. You look like you just came out of a train wreck."

_Or a supervillain battle,_ Mary Jane thought wryly.

"Does this have anything to do with Peter Parker's recent death?" he asked in his usual empathetic, but strangely bloodless voice. "You haven't said a word about it, and neither has Harry Osborn."

"I don't really want to talk about my role in Peter's murder, Mr. Mackey."

"I've heard that you were there. You _saw_ it. Would you like to talk about it?"

The reason why Mr. Mackey would wish to hear all the graphic details escaped her. "No. I wouldn't."

"The NYPD is working with the Fantastic Four, searching for Dr. Otto Octavius. He will be arrested and put on trial, and there will be justice, m'kay?"

_Of course not. There never will. Not unless you arrest me as well, as an accessory to the murder._

"_He's alive?_" She thought she'd…

"Of course he is, Mary Jane. You will have to deal with that. I can give you some phone numbers, various support groups…"

"No thanks. I can handle it."

_Like you're really handling it so well now,_ Peter's voice told her.

_morning, oscorp industries headquarters_

"Good morning, Mr. Osborn. How are you today?"

"Morning," Norman grumbled, feeling obligated to exchange pleasantries with Dr. Mendel Stromm, head of Research and Development, but hating the experience.

"How's your son? Heard his best friend was murdered by—"

_How is that any of your business, dimwit?_ "He's doing better, thank you. How are the performance enhancers going?"

"I ran the first animal tests two days ago," Stromm cheerfully replied, gesturing towards the glass-walled isolation chamber. "We tried vapor inhalation with rodent subjects. They showed an eight hundred percent increase in strength."

Norman looked pleased, yet thoughtful. "Eight hundred percent," he repeated. "That's excellent."

"There were side effects, though."

Norman sighed and rolled his eyes. _Side effects, schmide effects._ Leave it to Stromm to emphasize the downside. If he won the Powerball, all he'd think about was the taxes he'd have to pay and the gold-diggers who would come after him.

Seeing the annoyed expression on his boss' face, Stromm tried to backpedal. "One trial. It was an aberration, but…"

"But _what_, Dr. Stromm? _What_ happened in the test that went wrong?"

"Violence. Aggression. Paranoia. Eventually, insanity. We have to take the whole thing back to formula."

Now Osborn fairly roared at him. "_Back to formula?!_ We have been trying to unlock the next leap in evolution for _five_ years!"

"The closest we've ever come to success were the early tests on the spiders and even _those_ were utter failures—"

"Look on the bright side for a change, Stromm. The spider tests, I've heard, inadvertently produced Spider-Woman. The first human subject."

"Spider-Woman has disappeared, and—"

"Look, if I don't have a successful human trial to show the Pentagon, they will yank my funding out from under me, and _I am not going to lose this contract to Halliburton and Quest Aerospace, do you hear me?_" Norman shouted down at Stromm.

Dr. Stromm sighed. He had put up with Norman's shit for seven years, and he wasn't about to let it go for eight. He screwed up every bit of courage he had, and then said, "Then you will have to prevent that yourself. I quit."

If Norman was angry then, he had now reached the level of enraged. "The personal transport systems and the exoskeletons are up and running! The enhancers are all we need to complete! You can't quit!"

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because you're fired!"

_afternoon, midtown high_

Mary Jane clenched her left fist, picking at her lunch with the fork she held in her right. Cafeteria food, she thought, was an oxymoron—a contradiction in terms. Cafeteria food usually involved mystery meat. Mystery meat was named such because Sherlock Holmes himself couldn't figure out what it was made of.

She discreetly hid her hand under the table and tried to shoot at a nearby Twinkie someone had fetched at the snack bar and left temporarily unattended. Instead of a "_thwip_" and a long string of silky spider web, the only thing that emitted was a fading "_fffft_" sound faintly reminiscent of a silent fart.

Mary Jane sighed with relief as she disposed of her tray and ducked into the restroom, powder compact in hand. No power, no responsibility!

_Did you really think it was going to be that easy?_ Peter's voice asked her.

The restroom was empty. Mary Jane looked in the mirror and gingerly touched her bicep, remembering how Peter had protectively wrapped his arm around hers. Even though, she remembered, with her superpowers _she_ wasn't the one who needed to be protected. She raised her arm, flexed it, and made a muscle. Made a considerable muscle. She turned away from the mirror; her shoulders were still broad and square.

_It will always be with you,_ Peter's voice reminded her.

He was the one who needed protection, and when he was most in danger, she had failed to give it to him.

Yes, it probably would always be with her, woven in her DNA. No, she probably didn't deserve it.

_Yes, you do. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, _Peter said.

_Easy for you to say,_ she'd reply.


	3. Papercut

To Song With No Soul: I'm still working on a way to break the scenes because Document Manager compresses between paragraph spaces. No, I don't know those addresses, but I myself have been having trouble with the website. Concerning your recent NVN3 review, I was hoping that my Loyal Minions wouldn't notice that glitch in continuity. I guess your eyes and memory are sharper than mine.

Happy reading!

Chapter 3: Papercut

"_Everybody has a face that they hold inside_

_A face that awakes when they close their eyes_

_A face that watches every time they lie_

_A face that laughs every time they fall_

_(And watches everything)_

_So you know that when it's time to sink or swim_

_That the face inside is watching you too, right inside your skin!"_

Linkin Park, "Papercut"

_after school_

Norman Osborn had insisted on picking up Harry himself after school. Harry squirmed in the shotgun seat; he knew what was going to happen.

"How was your day, Harry?" Norman asked, in a tone of voice that implied he didn't really care. Harry didn't volunteer information.

"We need to talk."

Harry gulped. This could only go downhill from here.

"Go ahead. Ask me about what."

Harry gulped again. "Talk about what?"

"Your friend Parker. If the papers are right, he was taken hostage and murdered by a supervillain."

"The papers _are_ right, Dad."

"He was there because he was taking pictures of Spider-Woman for the _Daily Bugle_, isn't that right?"

Harry was tempted to correct him, to tell him that Peter only went to the bank to cash his check, that Peter was only at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he knew better. The reason Peter was at the bank was irrelevant. The outcome was the same.

"I always thought Parker was a great kid. He was so brilliant, he had so much potential, he had such a bright future ahead of him, and—" Norman snapped his fingers. "Boom. Gone, just like _that_."

Harry was uncomfortably aware that Norman regarded Peter as a son, even more than his real one.

"You know that I hold Spider-Woman responsible for his death. Just as responsible as Doctor Octopus."

"You seem grieved, Dad."

"Well, who else was going to run Oscorp when I'm gone?" he asked. _Because it sure as hell wasn't going to be you, shit for brains,_ Norman mentally continued_. Sometimes I'm ashamed to admit you have half my genes._

"Look, son. Do you want to see justice done? Do you want to avenge your friend's murder?"

"If _that's_ what you have in mind, Dad, Spider-Woman has disappeared—"

Norman was thoroughly irritated now. "That was a _yes_ or _no_ question, Harry. What is it?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"If this girl is as powerful as the papers say, you'll never be able to take her on alone. I know a way you can."

Peter haunted Mary Jane night and day. His ghost appeared even when she was just riding the school bus home, prompting her, like Hamlet, to carry on her moral duty.

_Sometimes I want to ask God why He allows injustice, violence, and evil, when He can do something about it. You're with God now, Peter. Will you ask Him that for me, next time you see Him?_

_Don't you think that God is asking _you_ the same question, Mary Jane?_ he'd answer.

_evening_

Harry, wearing naught but green swimming trunks, fidgeted as his father adjusted the straps of the gurney inside the glass isolation chamber. He started to wonder exactly what he'd gotten himself into. _Let that be a lesson to you: never sign your ass up for something your head don't know about._

Norman checked the monitor readings one, two, five times. He thought about all those movies he'd seen featuring mad scientists trying out some kind of formula on themselves, becoming their own human guinea pigs. He shook his head. How could anyone be that dumb? He knew better than that. The chief maxims he followed in his business life were, to wit, never invest with your own money, use someone else's; and never test your formulae on yourself, use volunteers that were properly motivated by money, or in this case, revenge. However, Harry was starting to look positively ill, quickly losing his nerve.

"Dad—what are you doing with that?"

"Do you want to punish Spider-Woman or not?"

"Yeah sure, but what does this—"

Norman cut his son off. "I've read the papers. Her strength, speed, and agility are inhuman. Spider-Woman will yank your arm off and shove it up your ass as soon as look at you. You're going to need some extra help, which I am gladly giving to you, free of charge. Be grateful and _get in_."

Harry stepped into the chamber, up to the gurney, grumbling all the way. Lord only knew what was going to happen.

"Don't be a coward, boy," Norman disdainfully admonished as he checked the printout for the tenth time. "Risks are part of laboratory science."

It was then that Harry knew that the stakes were as high for his father as they were for him. Harry Osborn's bed was made; now he had to lie in it.

"She hardly talks anymore," the nurse informed Mary Jane as they clipped the stark hallways of Bellevue. "We have her on some medication for her depression. She might not even recognize you."

There was a stark distinction in Mary Jane's life before and after the spider bite. Before, she wouldn't _dream_ of going into a place like this. She especially wouldn't be caught _dead_ being _seen_ with an actual patient.

_But that was then, and this is now,_ she told herself. _This is what misusing my powers has done. This is where abjuring my responsibility has led me. _

_A good start, but it's not too late to accept it, _Peter's voice intruded in her head, and then her nerve failed her.

Mary Jane thrust the roses and the cookie platter at the nurse. "Just take these to May Parker," she said. "I think it's—too soon."

_You mean not soon enough,_ Peter rebuked.

Norman thrust a bottle towards Harry. "Sodium phosphate. Decreases nausea when the vapor hits the bloodstream. Down the hatch."

Harry accepted the flask with half a smile. "Cheers," he said, and drank it in one gulp.

Because Harry's mouth was otherwise occupied, Norman belatedly offered a toast. "To the realization of man's true capabilities."

"To the memory of Peter Parker," Harry added. "To the successful defeat and capture of Spider-Woman."

Norman buckled the straps securely, crossed his fingers and hit an array of switches. The gurney, Harry still strapped on, lifted up inside the tank. Harry was frightened and frantic, and obviously disturbed that his father remained a picture of perfect calm. It seemed like Norman neither knew nor cared about what the consequences of this whole endeavor would be. He was absolutely convinced that he was in the right and perfectly content to sit back after this and watch the human comedy.

Norman hit the final switch. Ghostly white gas poured through vents in the floor, creeping up Harry's legs and feet like a living thing.

Seeing the look of horror on his son's face, he sneered, "Calm the hell down, boy. It'll be worse for you if you don't."

Harry obeyed as the cloud enveloped him, finally forcing himself to take a deep breath. He started to breathe normally, sighed and smiled, and prepared to tell his father not to worry.

Until he started convulsing, his ice blue eyes rolled into the back of his head, feeling like someone stuck a hot needle into every nerve ending he had. He wanted to scream.

Norman was screaming at him now. "Don't worry, Harry! It will pass!"

Harry heard frantic beeping from the body monitors. It sounded like it was flat lining. No, that couldn't be. That meant no heartbeat, which meant you were dead. And he _definitely_ wasn't dead. In fact, he felt more alive than ever. He felt like he was bigger, stronger than his own body, as if his body couldn't contain him anymore.

Norman watched, fascinated, as his formerly scrawny son began to "pump up," as it were. The last of the gas was starting to fade away. Harry gradually stopped convulsing and slowly opened his eyes. _Success!_

Harry slowly came to inside the tank, looking at his body like he'd never seen it before. He clenched his fists a few times, watching the veins pop out and in. He decided to jump for joy and scream, "_Yes! I did it! I'm the man!_"

It came out as a primal shriek. It felt great. _He_ felt great.

Norman involuntarily stepped back. Harry ripped through the straps like they were made of tissue paper. Then he ripped the sensors off his chest, madness glinting in his eyes. It was like he was a totally different person!

Norman stepped up to his son, preparing to shake his hand to congratulate him on their triumph, and lasted exactly as long as it took Harry to notice him. He thought even with his son's new superpowers, he still had a strong psychological hold on him.

He was wrong. When Harry did notice him, he knocked his father away with one sweep of his arm.

The strength of the blow was stunning in its utter casualness. With no more effort than a child would use to brush away a fly, Norman soared up, into, and through the glass tank, sailing headfirst into a pillar across the room.

_Ungrateful boy,_ Norman thought as his vision darkened, blood seeping on the floor.

Harry hungrily snatched the exoskeleton and the glider. _I'll take these, thank you._

Mary Jane peered over a friend's shoulder. Her friend was reading the evening edition of the _Daily Bugle_, and the headline was, in typical _Bugle_ fashion, "Oscorp CEO Murdered, Son Missing; Supervillain 'Green Goblin' Linked to Crimes."

_My new boyfriend is missing just after I lost the old one. His father's dead and his experiments stolen,_ Mary Jane thought.

_You know what you promised on my grave,_ Peter reminded her. _You swore not to let anyone else's life end the same way mine did. Dead at the hands of a supervillain._

Finally, Mary Jane gave in. _Okay, I get it! I get it! Tell God that for me, Peter! Tell God I've learned my lesson! You told me that with great power comes great responsibility. I was just ducking mine, thinking I was noble when I was really just looking for the easy way out and looking out for number one. I was Scrooge, and you were the Ghost of Christmas Present, telling me that mankind should have been my business. I get it now. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?_

_Doesn't really matter, does it?_ Peter replied. _I'm dead, remember?_


	4. Saving Me

To Song With No Soul: Interestingly, an ottophile's love for villains begins and ends with the good Doctor Octavius. The exact same people who will cheer on Dr. Octopus will heap general abuse and wish all varieties of ill will towards the Green Goblin. Otto's just a little crazy and paranoid though; Norman's a sociopath, plain and simple.

Happy reading, my Loyal Minions! Keep the reviews coming!

Chapter 4: Saving Me

"_Show me what it's like_

_To be the last one standing_

_And teach me wrong from right_

_And I'll show you what I can be_

_Say it for me, say it to me,_

_And I'll leave this life behind me_

_Say it if it's worth saving me."_

Nickelback, "Savin' Me"

Finally, she could face herself and her misdeeds. _I was in it for the thrills, the perks, and the fame. And what did it get me? The momentary thrills left my beloved Pete dead. Instead of fame, I'm an outlaw, blamed for his death. And the perks—what of them now?_

She was a sadder, but wiser woman, and she knew what she had to do.

She was kneeling at the bedside of Peter Parker's adored aunt, May. She had been a second mother to Pete, she'd heard, ever since his parents, Richard and Mary, died under mysterious circumstances. Richard was the baby brother of her husband Ben.

"May…I have something to tell you."

May blinked up at her in sudden recognition. "Mary Jane. You're my friend Anna's niece."

Mary Jane smiled. "Anna Watson used to be your fellow Red Hat Society member and bingo partner, didn't she?"

"I haven't played bingo in such a long time," May remembered. "I've switched to bunco."

"May, there's something I need to tell you about Peter's murder."

"I heard about that, Mary Jane. He was killed by that horrible Octopus. You saw the whole thing, but it's not your fault. If anything, it's mine. He was withdrawing that money to treat Ben and me to lunch, and he wanted to use the rest of it to take you out to dinner. Please don't blame yourself."

Mary Jane shook her head in secret admiration. Here she was, her husband and nephew dead, facing the woman responsible for her nephew's death, and here she was, trying to comfort _her_!

"I have to tell you the truth now, May."

May looked up at her in puzzlement.

"He was at the bank withdrawing his money, but that money came from taking pictures of Spider-Woman. I found out Doctor Octopus was heading for the bank Peter was waiting at. I raced over to the bank, but I had to call him and make sure he got the money first, just because I wanted to go to dinner. He told me he was in line right then, so I left for the bank. When I got there, Doc Ock was robbing the bank and—" Mary Jane's voice broke, and she nearly collapsed in sobbing.

"Just tell me, Mary Jane. I need to know the truth, whatever it is. I need to know."

"—and then I came in and tried to fight him off, but Doc Ock took Peter hostage. I couldn't save him because I didn't warn Pete where Octavius was going and I was late because all I cared about was the money he was getting. I tried to save him. It was too late."

"'Fight him off'?" May was genuinely perplexed. "'Save him'? You _couldn't_ do anything. You _couldn't_ fight off a grown man with mechanical arms."

"Yes, I _could_ have! And I _should_ have, but I _didn't_ because I took it all as a game!"

Finally, the puzzle pieces put themselves together. May shook her head. Impossible. It couldn't be. Mary Jane's mysterious accident and illness at that field trip, the inordinate time Peter was spending with Mary Jane in the basement with all his chemistry equipment, Peter's status as the photographer with "exclusive access", it all added up to…No. It _can't_ be. "_You're_ Spider-Woman, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question. She knew, and all she needed was verification.

"Yes. I am—or was." Mary Jane admitted.

"_I thought of you as my daughter! You were the one I wanted my Peter to marry! And you—!_"

"I never meant him any harm! I'm sorry, that's why I'm telling you! I've even lost most of my powers—"

"_Just go!_"

Mary Jane obliged, knowing May was right—she _was_ culpable in Peter's death. True, Doctor Octopus was the triggerman. But her personal conduct was what set the events in motion. She had a debt to pay.

She'd ditched her suit, but she knew where it had ended up. Some garbage man picked it up, brought it to the _Daily Bugle_ headquarters, where it now hung on the wall as J. Jonah Jameson's personal trophy.

Thing was, she didn't shoot web anymore. Didn't know if she could still climb walls, either. Time to find out.

She shut her eyes, concentrated, curled her two middle fingers toward her palm, and flung it out. To her amazement, a long, silky strand of spider web flew out of her wrist, catching on her hairbrush.

The Amazing Spider-Woman smiled.

At the headquarters of the _Daily Bugle_, J. Jonah Jameson stared regretfully at the costume hanging on the wall. "No word on the Norman Osborn murder case," his gofer, Hoffman, was telling him. "They're saying this 'Green Goblin' guy people have seen lately might have been the killer. The New York CSI unit says it looks like a supervillain-type murder. But every time someone gets close to him he flies off and screams about Spider-Woman."

"Norman was not only my boss and my paper's biggest shareholder, he was my friend, Hoffman. It was my fault he died." Jameson was still looking up at that costume. "I drove Spider-Woman away."

Hoffman nodded. "She's the only one who could've stopped the Goblin."

Mary Jane peered in the skylight, listening to Jonah "eulogize" her. It was like being Tom Sawyer, hiding out during his own funeral and listening to all the people who hated her in life praise her in death. _Irony!_ She shot a web, carefully yanking her costume up unnoticed.

"Spider-Woman was a hero. A role model for all the little girls in New York. I just couldn't see it, and I treated her so unfairly. I practically had her drawn and quartered in my paper, and now I'm paying the price!"

_Aw, and here I am without my digital video recorder._

Jonah was sniffling, trying to keep the tears back. "Spider-Woman was a…" Then he noticed the costume was off the display, replaced by a note which read:

_Thanks for holding it for me, Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman._

"…A _thief_!"

_Okay, Watson out. Exit stage left._

"A criminal! She stole my suit! I had it dry-cleaned and sewn up, too! She's a menace to the entire city! I want her strung up by her own web! _I want Spider-Woman!_"

She hurriedly slipped it on. _If it's Spider-Woman he wants, then Spider-Woman he gets! I'm feeling generous tonight, in this case._

Spidey felt astonished to see the care Jameson had taken to repair her suit. The holes and slashes were sewn up; even the crusty old bloodstains were gone. The suit felt better than new; and so did she.

The Amazing Spider-Woman was back and swinging—literally from the rooftops again. She was her old self again; fearless and strong, the consummate actress and comedienne if not actually a showboater, sailing through mountains and valleys of glass and steel.

She heard a shout from below: "Look overhead, it's Spider-Woman!"

Spidey shouted back down at the small crowd: "Damn straight, bee-yotch!"

_Thank you, Peter, for setting me free,_ she thought.

_Oh no, you did that yourself,_ he replied. _You won't hear my voice anymore, Mary Jane. The rest is up to you to work out. But remember, my love will always be with you._


	5. The Black Parade

Chapter 5: The Black Parade

"_When I was a young boy,_

_My father took me into the city _

_To see a marching band_

_He said, "Son, when you grow up_

_Would you be the savior of the broken, _

_The beaten, and the damned?"_

_He said, "Will you defeat them, your demons, _

_And all the nonbelievers,_

_The plans that they have made?"_

My Chemical Romance, "Welcome to the Black Parade"

_late afternoon_

"Wow, Flash, don't you look happy today," Mary Jane nodded approvingly. The football star had been a bit depressed lately, but now he was all smiles as he trotted down the hall with girlfriend Elizabeth Allen.

"That's because I _am_ happy, babe," Flash held up his copy of _The Daily Bugle_. "Spider-Woman is back and swinging—literally!"

Liz folded her arms across her chest, annoyed. "And just _why_ do you have such a vested interest in her?"

_He has a crush on Spider-Woman! _Mary Jane suddenly realized. _Good Lord forbid he finds out who she really is!_ She decided to use her great acting skills to play the devil's advocate.

"Yeah, Flash. Are you into bad girls?" she asked him. "The _Bugle_ says she's a—" She read the editorial aloud. "'a sociopathic narcissist who seeks thrills and fame from a superhero-loving but gullible public, but unwilling to take responsibility for her actions.'"

"That's crap. Spidey's a _hero_ and old man Jameson can't tell a real hero if she poked her head out from the grass and bit him in the ass. He's just talking smack about her to sell papers."

"Still," insisted Liz, "it says here that shortly before she disappeared, Spider-Woman totally trashed First Central Bank during a battle, and not only that—" Liz's voice dropped. "She's suspected of killing Peter Parker."

Flash snorted his derision. "Honestly, do you women believe _everything_ the media spoon-feeds you? You might as well believe the _Weekly World News_ and all their stories about alien abductions. Listen, Spider-Woman was at that bank because Doctor Octopus was _robbing_ it. She was trying to _stop_ him. Doc Ock took Puny Parker as a _hostage_ and Spidey tried to _save_ him. Why aren't they trying to find Octavius? Why aren't they offering a reward for _his_ head? He's the one who _really_ killed Parker!"

For a moment, Mary Jane forgot that Peter's spirit wasn't talking to her anymore; she'd half-expected him to contradict Flash's version of events. _But still, he's taking her—my—side! _

Flash continued to orate on his hero's virtues. "Spidey's every bit a superhero, even more than the Fantastic Four. She's not wearing a mask because she's a criminal, she's wearing a mask because she wants to help people anonymously. She _doesn't_ want to get perks and fame for her superhero work."

"And the fact that she's hot has absolutely _nothing_ to do with why you think she's so great," Liz sarcastically cut in.

"Of course not. I am going to found my own fan club, the Webheads, to get out the word that the _Bugle_ won't. I'm going to tell everyone I can about why we should support Spider-Woman's efforts."

Liz rolled her eyes.

Seeing his girlfriend's disdain, Flash snapped, "You only _wish_ you were as brave, beautiful, and buff as Spider-Woman!"

At this comment, Mary Jane's face was a human exclamation point. Liz Allen's face looked like someone highlighted it and selected bold print. She snatched the paper out of his hand. "You can leave me out of your freaky fantasies. _I'm_ looking for news about what happened to Harry."

Mary Jane shrugged and opened her locker, retrieved her cell phone, checked her text messages. There was one.

_I'm home MJ._

_after school_

"Missed the bus again," Mary Jane thought. She shrugged. _Might as well take the web-line express._

_Father's either at work or drinking. Mother's sleeping over at Aunt Anna's _and _drinking. No one will notice if I come home late because there was a mugging or something on the way._

She could just imagine Peter's voice chiding her for using her powers for something so mundane as after-school transportation. Of course, she could only imagine it now. Too bad; she was starting to miss his company.

She was also feeling up to fighting a supervillain again. Namely, the Green Goblin, the kidnapper and suspected murderer of her Harry.

_Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it,_ she thought, because her spidey-sense was going off. The world around her slowed to a crawl, except her and the source of mortal danger, which was coming toward her at lightning speed, swerving to snap the web-line she'd been swinging on.

It was Mary Jane Watson whose heart leapt to her throat as she fell. But it was the Amazing Spider-Woman who fired off another web and frantically caught herself.

Her attacker swerved towards her in midair, cutting the second web-line. Spidey had to catch herself again. He was insanely cackling with delight at her predicament. The third time he cut her spider-web, she deftly landed on her feet on the rooftop.

"So, this is the 'amazing' Spider-Woman." Her assailant leered down at her from his perch on a crescent-shaped silver glider. He was dressed all in green armor, and the yellow-eyed mask clearly suggested why the _Bugle_ had christened him "Green Goblin."

"I don't believe we've met, Green Goblin. Now that we've introduced ourselves, what next? Dinner and a movie?"

"You _always_ have something smart-ass to say. Less talkie, more fightie." He leapt to her, threw the first punch.

Spidey had _never_ been hit like that before in her life, and she was including all her father's drunken rages and both her battles with Doctor Octopus. She reeled back, stood up while Goblin wound up for his second punch. Now she knew what to expect. If Peter had ever taught her anything, and he had, he'd taught her the value of the power of surprise.

She caught his fist in her hand. "That's nice. Now let's try one of mine on for size." Her right hook sent Goblin spinning!

Like Spidey, he merely shook his head and got up for more. He received not only a right hook, but a kick in an intimate and private area. "Don't you know it's not nice to hit a girl?"

Goblin staggered up again, growling, "It's getting increasingly hard to tell. And the kick—that's a standard female tactic." _Let's try a different approach._

"Proven effective."

"Nice outfit—low cleavage, bare midriff, only partial mask—"

_Just as much as a perv as Octopus,_ she thought. "It usually takes a perp's eyes off my fists."

"—but honey, you've got to learn to accessorize!" Goblin, seemingly out of nowhere, pulled out four silver things that looked like boomerangs. Unlike regular boomerangs, these were razor sharp. She'd be cut to pieces if her spidey-sense hadn't slowed them down in her mind, showed her what to do.

Spidey ducked, swerved, then leapt, catapulted and spun over them, but gasped as one succeeded in slashing her right forearm. "Now let's turn to the judging table." The she stepped towards him, and aimed a powerful right jab to his throat. All this time with the Goblin, her spidey-sense was going back and forth, frequencies wavering, _Be careful_. It was never acting like this.

While she tried to figure this out, Goblin leapt to his feet, elbowed her in the stomach, pressed a button on his left forearm. Spidey felt herself getting oddly tired as a misty green gas enveloped her like a fleece security blanket.

"Sleep, little spider, sleep," she heard him crooning, and then she obliged.

_night_

_She seemed taller, somehow,_ Goblin thought, looking down at her. _She was all-powerful in that battle, everywhere at once. But here, lying limply at his side on a unsuspecting rooftop, she just looked—pathetic. A little girl. Strip off the suit, and the mighty Spider-Woman deflated from a hellacious virago into what she was underneath it—a little girl._

He worked a finger into her mask to see the little girl underneath, and thought better of it. His father had told him that the world was full of illusions—but he wanted to keep up this particular illusion for a while longer. His superhuman healing powers had restored him by now, but his groin still ached and her fists had felt like battering rams even through his armor.

Spidey sat up, shaking her head to clear the fog. But she somehow couldn't coordinate herself. Goblin knew why.

"I always wanted spend a romantic evening with my girlfriend under the stars," he said conversationally. "Don't worry about how you feel. My hallucinogen gas has only slowed your nervous system to a crawl. Just for a few minutes, while we have a little chat."

Spidey reflexively slapped her hand to her face, comforted that she still felt fabric underneath it.

"I didn't remove it, Spidey—can I call you Spidey?—because I respect your privacy. And I respect _you_."

"Who are you?" _Gee, Mary Jane, you sound like you're talking with your mouth stuffed with cotton and shot up with Novocain at the dentist's office._

"A kindred spirit, Spidey. A fellow freak, if you will. I'd like to be your friend, and I'd like to be _more_ than a friend."

Spidey tried to manage a single-finger salute, but only succeeded in curling a couple of fingers. She was one of those girls who look so cute when they're angry.

"I'm not like you. I'm not at all like you. You're a murderer, I know it."

"Let's switch gears, Spidey. We all choose our own path in life. You chose the path of a hero. People like heroes. But what people like more than seeing heroes…is seeing heroes fail at their task, die trying to succeed at it, or falling to the dark side on the way. Why do you think people love tragedies. Think about it. Four hundred years and plays like _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ still resonate."

Spidey—or more precisely, the young actress underneath her—could understand the point. Hamlet "died trying", and Macbeth "fell to the dark side."

"Face it! People have a love-hate relationship with heroes. On the one hand, they, well, they're heroes. On the other hand, they set an example that no mere mortal can follow. In spite of all you've done for them, they will turn on you. The pendulum is already swinging from love to hate. Look at the headlines!" Goblin dangled today's late edition _Bugle_ in front of her. The headline stated: _Spider-Woman: It's Time For a Bug-Free City._

"Why do you waste your power on these fools when you can use them for yourself, to get what you want out of life?"

_Because I tried that, and it wasn't working out for me._ "Because it's right."

"Like any average female, you go by your emotions, your empathy, rather than logic and reason. Think of it this way, and read Darwin's _The Origin of Species._ Life is a ruthless battle, the strong survive, the weak perish, and the species is improved. Are you going to claim your piece of the pie?"

She merely shook her head. _Was it a rejection or just clearing the mental fog?_

"Imagine what we could accomplish together, what we could create together. We would be as Zeus and Hera over this world of concrete, steel, and smog, if we only joined together."

She sighed. "You're not the first supervillain to make a move on me. If you like me _that_ way, you'd better work it out with Doc Ock."

"Don't question our attraction, Spider-Woman. Just think about it, _hero_."

_early morning_

She unlocked the door to her house. Unoccupied as usual. Father's at work, Mother's sleeping over at Aunt Anna's.

Unoccupied until she walked into her room…and Harry Osborn, missing for three days and feared dead, stumbled toward her, bruised slightly and his clothes in shreds.

_Why is my spidey-sense going off at my boyfriend?_

"Hold me," he said. "I think he's coming to get me again."

Then he collapsed into her arms, nearly fainting. "You're stronger than I thought. Almost as strong as—" His tone was demanding now. "What's that cut from?"

"I tripped over a kitchen knife in Home Economics," she lied.

Harry started to look at her as if he'd never seen her before. Then he got up and left, shutting doors behind him.

_Why the hell is my spidey-sense going off at my boyfriend?_


	6. The Animal I've Become

Off to reply to those Loyal Minions who replied anonymously (and seriously, you ought to get an account, or sign in under it if you have it, because I think I'm breaking some rule by doing this):

To Song With No Soul: 1) There is nothing funnier to me than that America's Funniest Home Videos staple: a man getting hit or kicked right in the twins' playpen. 2) Well, the Osborn line is pretty smart. I hope that Harry got at least _some_ of Norman's brains. Though he seems to have got _all_ of his father's sociopathy. 3) Yes, MJ better watch her back.

To Lady of the Lake: Who says I'm going to kill her? Mary Jane as Spider-Woman is the greatest thing to happen to my hit count. And, as always, thank you for reading; I appreciate every Loyal Minion I can get.

The Trickster wishes everyone a Happy--uh, whatever you celebrate this time of year.

As always, whether old or new, read and review!

Chapter 6: The Animal I've Become

_"So what if you can see_

_The darkest side of me?_

_No one will ever tame_

_This animal I have become._

_Help me believe_

_It's not the real me..."_

Three Days Grace, "The Animal I Have Become"

_morning_

"_Old illusions die hard, Harry."_

"What?" Harry sharply turned around. He was certain that no one else was in the penthouse. He suddenly realized the source of the voice was coming from the corner of his armchair. "I must be going crazy. I think my mask is talking to me."

"_Forgotten your father so soon? Harry, you had your hands on the one you seek. Caring parent that I am, I gave you that opportunity—and you let it slip through your fingers!"_

"What? I—don't remember exactly—"

"_Stop whining. You sicken me. You practically ooze weakness, and I have a _very_ low tolerance for weakness."_

Come to think of it, the voice almost sounded like his father, in the middle of a rant on the subject on how worthless he was.

"_I practically handed her to you! I did it. I went after her. I did what you were too spineless to do!" _The Goblin nodded his head towards a nearby newspaper, the lead story of which warned the city of "_The Big Apple's Newest Supervillain: Green Goblin on a Spider-Hunt!_"

"_And, if that wasn't enough, I found out who she is!"_

His world spun, recalling a memory of the one time Harry Osborn had broken free of the Green Goblin, running from the monster into the—unnaturally strong—arms of his girlfriend…

Harry shook his head, not bothering to question the fact that he was carrying on conversations with a mask. He tried to convince himself that the Goblin was someone else entirely, not him, not Harry, who was no murderer, but a totally normal if wealthy and spoiled teenage boy and Spider-Woman was someone else, not—

"_Spider-Woman is all but unbeatable,"_ the voice hissed at him. _"But Watson is flesh and blood. We can destroy her, and with her Spider-Woman."_

"You can't ask this of me!" Harry shouted. "Mary Jane's my girlfriend! My lovely, beautiful—"

"_They're all beautiful, Harry! But they're all a bunch of gold-diggers! Do you think such a low-class girl like _that_ likes your personality? You don't _have_ one! Look at her. She came to you, that greedy, scheming white trash, sniffing after your trust fund. She played you like a violin, connived her way into your heart and into your wallet, and how did she repay you?"_

"It's true…oh God…she always did have an appetite for the nice things…"

"_A dog turd with chocolate frosting isn't a birthday cake; it's just a frosted dog turd."_

"So, what do I do about this particular frosted dog turd? Just take my mental pooper-scooper and shovel her out of my life?"

"_More than that, Harry. The wench must be educated in the matters of loss and pain. Make her suffer for her impertinence. Make her wish she were dead, and then grant her wish!"_

"How do I do that?"

"_The cunning warrior attacks neither body nor mind, but the heart. She's a female, a member of that irrational, emotional, 'fairer' sex. She is especially vulnerable to this strategy. Let me tell you what to do…"_

"So, is it still on? You've got to help me on my English exam, MJ. Flash is no good for it, and besides, he's putting up posters advertising his Webheads club." Liz Allen was rolling her eyes.

"Sure. In fact, you still live over by my Aunt Anna's, don't you? We meet there and she'll bake us some cookies." Mary Jane frowned. "I think I just imagined it, but I saw Harry again."

Liz Allen perked up. "Where?"

"He came to my house—and I got a—funny feeling about him."

Liz nodded. "Never doubt your female intuition," she advised.

_Or your spidey-sense,_ Mary Jane thought, but she of course couldn't say that.

_early evening_

Mary Jane arrived at her aunt's house precisely after school, as she promised. Or, more precisely, she arrived at the train wreck that _was_ her aunt's house. She let herself in, gasping. The smoke alarm was beeping. The cookies sat on a rack on the kitchen counter, untouched. The dining room set was _trashed_, chairs upended. Fragments of orange shrapnel lay around the room, and they almost look like…pumpkins. There were burn marks on the walls, on the carpet, from the turbo's and thrusters of the glider, and her cell phone was ringing to the tune of a popular pop song with the rather catchy name of "Gone Daddy Gone". The song, she recalled, was performed by a band with the equally catchy but perplexing name of Gnarls Barkley.

She instinctively flipped open her cell phone. She'd received a text message, and there was no doubt who sent it.

_Can Spidey come out to play? XD_

It was all she could do not to crush the cell in her hand. She furiously tapped out her response.

_Where are they?_

She could almost hear Goblin laughing as he sent his next text.

_Having a little bridge work :-P_

She unzipped her sweater, revealing her costume, dipping her hand into a pocket to retrieve her mask. Then she sent him her response.

_c u there_

And suddenly, she realized something. _He knows. He knows who I am!_

_late evening_

Sailing through the air, Spider-Woman sighed with relief as she saw the most welcome sight she could think of under the circumstances. _There they are! I've reached the right bridge!_

The circumstances, unfortunately, was that the Goblin was waiting for her, gliding slightly above the bridge, effortlessly holding her aunt in his right hand and her best friend in his left.

"Can you hear me now?" Goblin cackled as he caught sight of her. "Good!"

The answer was in the question, but Spidey was oddly compelled to shout, "What the hell are you doing with them?"

"This is why only fools are heroes, Spider-Woman!" he laughed back at her. "Because you never know when some super-powered lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice!"

It was times like this, she decided, that she thought what she needed was a full-face mask. The last thing she wanted the Goblin to see was the look on her face when he said something like this:

"That's right, _little girl_! Time for you to make a decision! One will die, because of _you_! You just choose which one to spare, your aunt or your best friend!"

_Peter, you never warned me of this! What do I do?_

"This is the path you have chosen! This is where the life of a hero has led you! Make your choice, Spider-Woman, and see how a hero is rewarded!"

With those words, he released his captives, and they dropped.

This was the Sophie's Choice that dangled before her. Peter had always told her that _with great power always comes great responsibility._ Forsaking this responsibility had led to the death of her beloved Peter. Would accepting it lead to the deaths of Liz and Anna?

And then she made her choice. It only took a moment. She chose to accept her responsibilities, her destiny. Then she chose to spare _both_.

Spidey swung down, just in time to snatch Anna by the sweater, deftly scooping her up. "I've got you!" she called, hoping her aunt wouldn't recognize the voice.

Liz screamed, still falling. Spidey pivoted on the web, caught Liz in a second web-line, jerking her up with a powerful right arm. Liz bounced back up like a bungee jumper.

"Grab on to me and hold on," Spidey commanded. _And pray to God the Goblin doesn't come after me in this position._

Her spidey-sense rang with a passion, and Spidey—Anna in her left arm, Liz riding piggyback, and trying to web-swing with the right arm—groaned. _I know Garth Brooks sang about Your greatest gifts being unanswered prayers, but come on! Cut me some slack!_

So He did. Goblin swerved towards her, preparing to cut the web-line as he'd done before. He abruptly stopped his pursuit, distracted by something on the bridge.

Traffic on the bridge being halted, a small crowd of people had gathered to watch the fight. From her standpoint, a tall blonde boy who looked suspiciously like Flash Thompson had hurled an egg at Goblin. "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!"

Emboldened by Flash's act, the others followed suit, hurling shoes, rocks, bottles, vegetables, and generally showering Goblin with assorted debris.

A brick met its target, slamming into the side of Goblin's head. Flash shouted, "Take that!" followed by a few insulting names. The next thing Spidey heard him saying was, "Hi, I'm Flash Thompson, founder and president of the Webheads, the first and premier Spider-Woman fan club. For the nominal fee of 20 dollars, your membership can pay for an official Webheads t-shirt, a membership card, public relations projects to support your hometown heroine and counteract the bias of the _Bugle_, rallies, vegetables and eggs to throw at supervillains…"

It was all the time she needed to swing back over the bridge and deftly set Anna and Liz out of harm's way.

Dazed by their ordeal, the next sight these ladies saw was a black sedan. The driver opened his window, asking, "Need a lift?" while chomping his cigar and blowing smoke through the general vicinity.

"Aren't you J. Jonah Jameson from the _Daily Bugle_?" Liz asked suspiciously.

"Yeah. Get in the car."

"But why are you here?" Anna asked.

"I'm a newspaper man! Do you think I'd miss a story like _this_?"

"I don't know why you've done this, Goblin," Spidey shouted at the creature above her, "but this nightmare is over. You will never touch them again." Her spidey-sense started to ring, and a cable snaked around her waist, and she found herself lifted up, trailing on the glider to good-Lord-knows-where.

"Let me take you for a ride, Spidey!" Goblin cackled, delighted at the costumed teen's struggles, crowed, "Next stop, Roosevelt Island!" then turned and made a crash landing into an abandoned pier.

Spidey tore the rope off, and staggered to her feet. Then her spidey-sense rang, and her eyes saw those damned bat-winged boomerangs, spiraling in from all around and everywhere. _Here we go again,_ she thought, not daring to cry out in pain as the shredded through her costume, leaving streamers of blood.

"_Enough­_!" Goblin commanded, and the bats flew meekly away, leaving their target staggering across the dusty pier, and then collapsing on her back. She rolled over, and saw Goblin hovering over her. Goblin reached down into his glider, pulled out a rod. He pressed a button, causing three blades to pop out of it, like a pitchfork.

_Oh, boy, I really am in hell._

"Again and again, I tried to make my case. But you wouldn't listen to me. You wouldn't listen to reason. Had you not been so stubborn, your loved ones' deaths would have been quick and painless. But now that you've really pissed me off, I'll see that their deaths are slow and painful. Just—like—yours."

Grinning, as usual, Goblin stepped on her head with one foot to keep her still, and reared back with his spear, bringing it down swiftly toward her chest.

And suddenly, Spidey remembered a sign she'd seen hanging over Aunt Anna's couch. _I don't just believe in miracles—I count on them._

And she said a silent prayer: _I need a miracle. I'm counting on You._

At the last moment, Spidey caught the spear, stared into the monster's face, and her strength started to return. She yanked the spear from Goblin's hand and smashed it against his head. The blow should have decapitated him, but it only sent him spinning clear off the glider, sending him soaring back ten feet and sending him crashing to the ground.

Her heart filled with a nameless rage, leaving her a little guilty about failing to distinguish the sinner from the sin. But the monster before her was no longer a human of corrupted will, like Dr. Octavius, but a creature of corruption itself, personality and will only remaining as weapons wielded by a force of self-exiled negation. Finally, she'd found what hatred was made for.

It was Mary Jane Watson who was knocked on the floor, it was Spider-Woman who was bleeding and defeated, but it was Peter's gentle smile that got her back up almost effortlessly.

It was Peter's compliment, _"You were almost amazing. Even without powers"_ that made her able to snap that spear over her knee.

It was Peter's dying declaration of love that grabbed the Goblin by the chest and pulled him up from the ground.

It was the robotic octopus tentacle that whipped out from her vision of Peter's death and threw a haymaker that would have dislocated Goblin's jaw but for his armor and came close to doing so anyway.

And it was Peter's warm hands that ripped Goblin's mask from his face and prepared to crush his sneer underneath a steel fist.

But it was Mary Jane Watson's eyes who saw the face of Harry Osborn underneath the mask, and Mary Jane Watson's ears that heard him moan, "Please, MJ," and Mary Jane Watson's feet that staggered back—

And Mary Jane Watson's hand that ripped off her mask, released Harry, who slumped on the floor.

"Mary Jane…thank God for you."

She was shaking, wavering in and out of reality. "Can't be…you're a monster…"

"Please, MJ, don't let him take me back. Protect me from him. I'm not a monster."

"Not a monster?" Mary Jane reminded him sharply. "You killed your father."

Harry shook his head. "No. The Goblin killed him. I loved my father."

"You tried to kill Liz Allen. My _best friend_. You tried to kill my _Aunt Anna_, the only real mother I've ever had."

Harry sounded even more desperate. "The Goblin did it all, I tell you! The Goblin wanted me to kill Spider-Woman because she killed my _best friend_. But not you. Never you. I could always count on you. I always knew you'd save me."

Mary Jane shook her head. "You know it was Doctor Octopus who killed Pete. I stood back and did nothing as he died, and I had to atone for it."

"I have to atone, too," Harry whispered, pulling himself to his feet. "Take my hand, Mary Jane, my beloved, always my beloved—"

Mary Jane's heart hardened, and she pulled her hand away. "I had a beloved," she said tightly. "His name was Peter Parker."

And then, Harry laughed, and smiled at Mary Jane. "I will always love you, Mary Jane. Godspeed, Spidey," he told her, and pressed a slightly raised spot on his sleeve.

Behind her was the glider, and a blade popped out of it as her spidey-sense rang danger, one more time. She leapt, long powerful legs hurtling her clear as the glider gained momentum, punching through Harry as a Ginsu through a watermelon, pinning him to the wall, the Goblin hoisted on his own petard.

It was then that Mary Jane started to weep, not for the Goblin, but for Harry Osborn, whom the Goblin had murdered just as surely as he had murdered Norman Osborn. She couldn't find her own words. Only the Bard's, only King Lear's, would do. "_Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life/ And thou no breath at all? Thou wilt come no more/ Never, never, never, never, never!_"

* * *

Only the epilogue after this, my Loyal Minions. What will happen next? Probably the soon-to-be-released Quirk of Fate, Part 3: The Shadow Spider, huh? Happy reading... 


	7. Epilouge: The Reason

To Song With No Soul: I trust you, and I think I saw that rule just after they installed the "Reply to signed reviewers directly from the review page" feature. I always have made it a point to reply to my Loyal Minions and luckily (whispers) they haven't caught me yet. I don't think I'll get bounced for doing this though. What with the server breaking down every two days they've got better things to do. 2) Since this Green Goblin is a teenager, he would naturally know about cell phones, texting, and emoticons. 3) Flash Thompson also parallels the comic, but with an added dimension.

To Luger7: I hope you do. Happy reading!

Chapter 7: Epilogue: The Reason

"_I found a reason for me_

_To change who I used to be_

_A reason to start over new_

_And the reason is you_

_I found a reason to show_

_A side of me you didn't know_

_A reason for all that I do_

_And the reason is you."_

Hoobastank, "The Reason"

_after school_

"Hey, what's the holdup?!" She was shouting this because a Gordian knot of students blocked Mary Jane's walk through Midtown High's main hallway. From the center, she saw a blue-sleeved arm holding up this morning's _Daily Bugle_ and heard "Flash" Thompson's voice.

"I'm telling you, Spider-Woman's one hundred percent hero material! She single-handedly fought off the Green Goblin to save the city! The mass media refuses to give our official superheroine the recognition she deserves! That's why I've founded my official Spider-Woman fan club, the Webheads, to show her we're all on her side, even if the newspaper demagogues aren't! For only the nominal fee of twenty dollars…"

The knot of students began to groan. "Dude, just because you wear her shirt doesn't mean she's a hero," someone piped up.

"Yeah," a nearby Goth girl agreed. "How do you know she didn't just start the whole thing?"

"What part of 'I was there' don't you freaking understand, dipshit?" Flash retorted.

"The _Daily Bugle_ says—" started a preppy-looking boy.

"_The _Daily Bugle_ says, the _Daily Bugle_ says!_" Flash shouted in his utter exasperation. "Do you believe _everything_ you read? Geez, you all might as well be _robots_…"

Mary Jane shook her head. _If Flash only knew, Peter._

But Flash never could. He would, she knew, pay the price of that knowledge with his life.

In the safety of the girls' restroom, she prepared to change into Spider-Woman, prepared for the most part for what life had to throw at her, including supervillains. But she changed her mind. She had something to do first. She hailed a cab.

_early evening_

Phil Watson, hearing the insistent knocking, opened his door to see his younger daughter, Mary Jane, wearing a simple black tracksuit and staring at him. She didn't say hello. She just stared. A taxi stalled at curbside, obviously waiting for her.

"What, you need money? I hope you're not asking me for money."

"No, no money. I'm going to a funeral today, and since I was dressed for the occasion, I wanted to tell you that your daughter is dead."

"What, Gayle?" he asked, referring to Mary Jane's elder sister.

"No, the Mary Jane you once knew. The Mary Jane that could be intimidated by your threats, by your insults, by your bullying—"

"Oh, for the love of God—"

"The one you made feel like dirt, so you could walk all over her. She's dead and gone, and she's never coming back. I'm the _new_ Mary Jane, and I've dealt with guys that would chew you up and eat you for breakfast. I'm stronger and wiser, and if you're inclined to get to know me at some point, that's your choice. And if you're not…well, that's your loss. Do we understand each other?"

Phil gazed at her blankly. "I haven't understood you in seventeen years; why should I start now? You're being an idiot. Typical _female_—"

"And you're pathetic."

Phil's temper flared, and he raised a hand to slap her. Mary Jane snarled, catching his upraised forearm in a grip that was _thisclose_ to bone-cracking with inhuman speed. A warning flashed in her eyes. "Goodbye, Dad," she said, let go of his arm, and turned and walked away.

_Just one loose end to tie up. _

_night_

It was not altogether strange that she and Liz Allen (who'd always had a crush on him anyway), besides the minister, were the only people to attend the funeral. She'd swear that she'd heard cackling laughter from Harry Osborn's grave, even after they shut the lid, lowered him, and shoveled dirt on top.

But Peter's funeral—it'd been packed. Even if it _was_ closed-casket due to the manner of his death. She stepped towards his tombstone. A concrete angel, _her_ angel, the base engraved with his name, the birth and death dates, and the legend: _Beloved son, nephew, and friend._ She saw some punks trying to trash the place. Spider-Woman scared them off.

_I try to move on, but I know that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, the ones I love are always the ones who pay._

She decided to talk to Peter a little bit, bring him up to speed on what had happened over the past few months. She knew he'd been watching her from above all that time, but she thought he'd still like her earthly perspective.

Wouldn't be an easy thing to do, and no one could say she didn't warn him. The story of her life wasn't for the faint of heart. After all, it's hard to be a saint, let alone an angel, in the city of New York. She smiled. Whatever life had in store for her, she could accept. Her simple faith had become her shield against the slings and arrows of fate. And on that shield, she mentally engraved Peter's words: _"With great power comes great responsibility."_ This was her gift, and this was her curse.

She supposed if this were a superhero movie, it would end with her wildly swinging through the city and narrating something like, "Who am I? I'm Spider-Woman."

But since it wasn't a movie, she was now just Mary Jane Watson, sitting by a grave and catching up with her long-absent beloved.

"I'm here, Peter," she said.

**Finis**

"_When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,_

_I all alone beweep my outcast state,_

_And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_

_And look upon myself and curse my fate,_

_Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_

_Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,_

_Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,_

_With what I most enjoy contented least,_

_Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_

_Haply I think on thee, and then my state, _

_Like to the lark at break of day arising_

_From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;_

_For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings_

_That then I scorn to change my state with kings."_

--William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29

* * *

Is this the end of our heroine? Fortunately for you Loyal Minions, nope! Stay tuned for Quirk of Fate, Part 3: The Shadow Spider. 


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